fall and fail

{songbird's dirge}

One day he would look back on his experience with Deathstroke, and he might find it funny. He hoped he'd have kids so he could tell them how dumb he'd been in dealing with the assassin, and he hoped he'd teach them to know better than to take the bait like he had. Really, the thought of having kids made him a bit uncomfortable. He totally wanted kids, but it was so… weird. Growing up was weird.

About a week after the incident, he was still benched, and still healing. Going to school was the worst, because it was a constant aching in his chest as he tried in vain to pay attention, and he neglected his crutches soon after his first few classes on his first day back from recovery. They were silly, and he didn't need them.

Now he smiled brightly, his face glowing in the flicker of candles as his friends sang around him. It was only Jason, Barbara, Wally, and Artemis, but it was enough. Bruce stood in the doorway with Alfred, watching contentedly as his ward leaned over his cake, blinking out the fluttering flames with one breath. Alfred turned on the lights, and they all clapped as he was pulled from the dining room and into the living room.

"You know," Wally said through a mouthful of cake. "Roy was invited, right? What gives? It's not like him to forget your birthday."

"Roy hasn't really been himself lately," Dick said grimly. He saw Artemis shift uncomfortably. Wally noticed too, and shot her a questioning look. She sighed, setting her cake down and rubbing her hands against her knees, her nose wrinkling in irritation.

"Yeah, I, uh… talked to him. Earlier. He's coming." Dick and Wally grinned and high fived each other, triumphant that their older friend was taking time off his brooding to wish Dick a happy birthday.

"Who's Roy?" Barbara asked curiously. Jason looked up, his eyes puzzled.

"Roy Harper. Red Arrow," Dick said. Wally smirked through his mouthful of cake. "Formerly known as Speedy. Green Arrow's old partner." Dick didn't feel the need to mention that he was a clone.

"Oh," Barbara said. "I remember him. He's pretty cute."

Dick laughed in response, though Artemis's expression twisted into one of disgust. Jason simply rolled his eyes, and began drumming on his empty cup, soft beats resonating in a rhythmic pattern. They'd all learned it while watching a movie earlier in the day, and Dick had the chance to show off his lovely singing abilities that he tended to keep to himself.

"Since when does this Roy guy know your ID, Dickiebird?" Jason asked, after the cup was snatched from him by a disgruntled Artemis.

"Well… he kinda figured it out." Dick shrugged, slipping a fork into his mouth. "I mean, we're both the wards of billionaires. We've met loads of times as just Dick and Roy. He's not dumb, and he figured it out."

"Ah," Barbara sighed. "To be a wealthy man's son. It must really bore you two."

"Roy doesn't live with GA anymore," Wally said. He dug into his third piece of cake, grinning at Barbara brightly. "They've got mad issues. Like, have you ever seen Dick and Bruce fight? I haven't. Wanna know why? Because Batman is actually a decent parent— which, let's be real, surprised us all."

"He can hear you, KF," Dick said quietly. Artemis was glaring at her boyfriend, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Hey! Ollie isn't a bad parent, okay? Roy's the one who was too snippy to deal with him."

Wally raised an eyebrow at her and took a large swallow. "Because you live with him, and you'd know?"

"I'd know better than you!"

"Uh oh," Dick whispered to Barbara. "Mommy and daddy are fighting again." She giggled in response, earning the glowers of their two friends. Jason simply stared between the four of them and let out a long sigh.

"If you guys have a double wedding, do you think Batman will act as the priest? Because I would pay to see that."

"Jay," Dick sighed. Barbara looked amused, while Artemis and Wally simply appeared flustered.

"Just sayin'." Jason shrugged and leaned his head back against the couch, tilting it toward the ceiling.

Dick saw Bruce standing in the doorway again, leaning against the doorframe. It seemed he didn't want to intrude, but he wanted to watch anyway. It had been a tough week, and Bruce was a little less… distant than usual. It had been similar to what had happened after the flaying incident, only this time Bruce seemed… well, openly shaken. Deathstroke had awakened something horrible within Bruce Wayne by targeting his children once again, this time nearly killing them both. Jason's concussion was gone, and he had nothing left of the incident but a faintly healing cut that he hid with his hair, and a few thin scratches. Still, Dick remembered the strange look on Bruce's face when he came back to the cave from his mission and saw the damage done to his wards.

We're still just kids, Dick thought with a grimace. We're still his kids. Is it okay that I wasn't strong enough? I should have stopped him. He almost killed Jason. Is it okay that I failed?

He didn't know. He was still scared, though he'd hate to admit it, and life was all about the harsh truth. Dick was sixteen. He couldn't be the strongest. He couldn't be the fastest, or even the smartest. He wasn't the youngest. He wasn't sure who he was in the grand scheme, and it filled him with discomfort. All he knew now was that he should have been more careful. What would Bruce have done if Jason had died? If Dick had died? He shuddered at the thought, plenty certain that there would have been hell in Gotham if Barbara hadn't caught Dick in time, or if he'd bled out, or if the building had actually crushed Jason.

"Master Richard," Alfred called. "You have more guests."

"Guests?" Dick wondered aloud, rising to his feet. He moved toward the door, but Roy appeared beside Bruce before he got there. He saw Bruce's eyes narrow, but Dick beamed up at his friend anyway. "Roy! Wow, you actually got me a gift this year? Please let it be a tee shirt. A nice white one that says, 'I heart Star City'. Yes, I deem this acceptable."

Roy shoved the hastily wrapped present against Dick's chest, brushing past him. "You guessed it. Happy Birthday, squirt. So, are you like, twelve now, or…?"

Dick's smile was dampened a little at the nickname 'squirt', his memory triggering sadly. John used to call me that, he thought numbly. Quickly, though, he regained his composure, and laughed. "You know, Roy, I'm almost as tall as you. You really can't make fun of my youngness anymore."

"Like hell I can't." He paused when he saw that Dick's eyes had flashed to the doorway, locking with the dark, catlike gaze of the woman standing there. She smiled coyly at him, her long, black hair wildly framing her face. Bruce was no longer giving her a death glare, and he was watching Roy, his eyes speaking for him. If anything happened, it was on Roy's head.

"Um, hi," Dick said, glancing up at Roy. He winced a little, rubbing his neck sheepishly. The others were standing up now, all except Artemis, who was scowling at the television. "Roy, you have a lady friend."

"Yeah…" Dick saw Wally's eyes widen at the sight of Cheshire, making a loud cry of shock and looking ready to fling his cake at her head. "Dick, this is Jade, my… my wife."

"What?!" Wally and Dick gasped in unison, the shock registering hard and fast. They stared at Roy, then at Cheshire, and Dick felt a little sting of confusion and uncertainty, because Roy wasn't old enough to be married, and this made no sense at all, how could he be married? To Cheshire of all people! "Wait, I'm sorry, back up. You're married? When did you get married?"

"Be honest, how drunk were you?" Wally asked, eyes large and disbelieving. Roy glared at him.

"Yes, I'm married. It happened about a month ago— and I was sober." Roy's mouth twisted into a grimace. "You know, I can leave. If you guys—"

"Oh my god, shut up," Dick groaned, shoving him toward a couch. He turned to Cheshire— Jade, he reminded himself— and he smiled at her, pushing down all his qualms. He couldn't let her see how much he didn't trust her, or else she'd get suspicious. To her, he was just a friend of her husband's, and of her sister's. "You can come in. We're just a little surprised that he didn't tell us sooner."

"It was a sudden engagement," Jade said, her lips pulling at the corners as she walked in, her eyes flitting around the room. She met Artemis's eye, and her lips moved into a sly smirk. "Hello, sis. I didn't know you were going to be here."

Artemis sighed, shrugging her shoulders as she ate her cake, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. "Dick and I go to school together. He's one of my best friends— oh, but you wouldn't know that, would you?"

Jade simply watched her, her eyes half-lidded as she tilted her head. "Right," she said smoothly. "Now, I know him—" Jade looked pointedly at Wally. Her eyes swiveled to Jason and Barbara. "However, I'm not familiar with your other… friends."

"Neither am I, actually," Roy said, peering at the two of them. He squinted at Barbara. "No, wait. I know her. Dick used to video chat with her whenever he came to Star City for a few days."

"Um, right. Hi," she said, waving slowly. "I'm Barbara Gordon. This is Jason, Dick's brother."

Roy looked surprised at this, and he turned to Dick with a startled expression crossing his face. Dick grinned sheepishly as Jason leaned forward, rolling his eyes. "Adoptive brother," Jason corrected. "Jason Grayson is the shittiest name ever, let's be honest here."

"Right," Barbara agreed, laughing a little. "Adoptive brother."

"Why didn't I hear about this…?" Roy scratched his head, looking confused and irritated. Dick shrugged, tossing himself over a sofa.

"I think you were too busy getting married." Dick set down Roy's present on the table, but Wally snatched it and tossed it back at him.

"Nuh uh, dude! Cake's done, now presents! You promised!"

Dick rolled his eyes, still trying to get over the initial shock and creeping feeling of Cheshire being in his living room. At his birthday party. It was completely unreal, and undeniably awkward. "I thought you wanted to watch that horror movie," he said, resting Roy's gift in his lap as the newcomers sat down. Cheshire's eyes were on Artemis, and she was not so much interested in Dick, which was a good thing.

"Yeah, we can do that later. First, presents! Open 'em up, dude, while we're still young!"

Dick laughed, and decided to do just that. He pulled at the ends of the disfigured gift Roy had given him, noting that Roy had wrapped with the white underside of Christmas wrapping paper, the little ruddy faces of Santa Claus beaming at Dick as he tore the paper away. As he'd guessed, it was a tee shirt. However, it was a little more thoughtful to Dick's tastes than he'd anticipated.

"Aw, Roy!" Dick pushed the paper away and held up the black shirt, two human hearts emblazoned boldly on both sides, like lungs. "I'm actually super whelmed. I didn't know you knew Doctor Who."

"I don't. I just know you watch it." Roy shook his head, but he was smiling a little to himself, his arm around Chesh— Jade's shoulders. So weird. "And about twenty other weird, geeky shows that only you would watch."

"Untrue." Dick folded the shirt back up and grinned broadly. "I only watch the good ones."

"No, he watches anything that's on Netflix when he can't sleep. Trust me, I hear his TV at night. He watches some screwy shit." Jason was smirking though, obviously not willing to tell them that he often snuck into Dick's room at night to watch said television shows with him. He wasn't really attached enough to any of them to watch them while they were on air, but he preferred it when he could watch a show all at once. Breaking it apart ruined the entire mood.

"Okay, moving on." Dick set aside the tee shirt and reached out stretching his hands toward Barbara. "Your turn, Babs. Oh, if it's fear gas—"

"It's not," she said, relinquishing the small box with a sigh. She frowned at him as he eagerly tore off the top, tipping it over to dump the contents into his hands. "Maybe it should have been, though."

Dick stared at it for a moment before barking a laugh. He turned the taser over in his hands, grinning as he ran his fingers over the smooth metal surface. "Okay, I'll admit, this was clever."

"It took me awhile to make it. I had to read a few books," she said, looking content with the compliment. Dick looked at her, startled. Of course she'd make it. She was Barbara Gordon, she could do anything. Dick saw that she'd paid very much attention to detail, and had even painted on his blue bird, just to make it extra special. Dick placed the taser back into the box, setting it down on the table before he stood up, approaching Barbara. He watched as she winced, covering her face with her arms.

"Please don't," she gasped, just as he jumped on the couch beside her and swept her into a hug. "Get off me! You didn't hug Roy, get off!"

"That's because I'd rather not die today," he laughed, squishing his cheek against hers, and holding her shoulders tightly as she struggled to plant her hands on his chest, pushing him hard. "Bet you wish you kept it for yourself."

"Your face is way too close to mine right now. Back off, Grayson, before I hurt you!"

He did, bumping his shoulder with hers and grinning brightly. She was smiling a little too, though maybe that was only relief from being released from his grip. He saw Artemis examining the taser, looking impressed, while Wally simply watched Dick with raised eyebrows. Dick had completely forgotten about Jade's presence in the room until he met her eye, her lips tugged back into a knowing smirk. Roy just looked confused.

Good thing Zatanna wasn't here, or else he'd have a lot of explaining to do about how he dealt with his more affectionate side.

"Hey, Arty," he whistled. She looked up, quickly dropping his taser back into the box. She looked a little embarrassed as she bent down, picking up the rounded object at her feet. It looked like she'd had a lot of trouble wrapping it, and she had ended up doing something akin to decoupage with several different types of paper. Tissue paper, newspaper, magazine covers, comic panels… hell, he could see old math worksheets sticking out between all the colors and mayhem. It actually looked very artful, though he knew Artemis had just thrown together whatever she could to cover the gift. So, she'd accidentally tapped into her inner artist. Probably without realizing it.

"Is it a ball?" Dick loved guessing what he got beforehand. It made the actual present much more satisfactory. He leaned over, grasping the round object and giving it a little shake. Artemis hissed at him, grabbing his wrists over the table and forcing him to stop.

"Look, I found this at a pawn shop, and it's about three more shakes from falling apart. So don't do that. At all."

Dick peered at her curiously and pulled back, resting the gift gingerly on his knee. He cocked his head and turned the rounded parcel around and around, trying to find a place to tear into the paper. He was keenly aware of Jade's sharp eyes watching his every move, so he carefully slid his fingers beneath the faded face of an old celebrity, and he tore the paper away, listening to it fall around him as his fingers brushed against something smooth, and cold. Metal, he realized, pulling the rest of the paper away, staring blankly at the strange, brightly colored ball. It was sort of rusted, and the paint was chipped around the thick line that ran through the center of the ball horizontally. The metal seemed to be… panels. Bold, ornate panels, that looked like the would simply slid away, folding into itself…

He felt the key digging into his thigh, and he tentatively turned it. Round and round and round, winding it steadily, listening as the cogs within it turned and locked and were ready for use. He let his hand pull back. And it began to sing.

It was a soft croon, so different from the chaotic beat he remembered, but it was the same somehow. It was the lullaby that hummed him to sleep when he'd been a child, and the song that screeched in his ears the night his family had fallen. Familiarity stung in his chest, spreading warmth, hot and squirming, all throughout his body, and he felt sad. The little panels sprung back, and Dick found himself staring as he saw the innards of the ball. It was the circus, playing before him in the slow mechanics of clockwork, little clowns bowing, and bowing, and bowing, an elephant's head perpetually nodding, its trunk slimmer than half his pinky as it clicked, clicked, clicked. Strongmen and tightrope walkers and contortionists all littered the little sphere, dancing in time with the lilt of a music box hidden somewhere in the cavities of the ball's metal heart.

Of course, he stared at the acrobat the longest.

It was a skinny, faceless thing, nothing but a few scraps of metal thrown together to look a little human in shape. Its body was thin, and it whirled on a bit of wire, spinning, spinning, click, click, clack, its metal joints popping with every spiral. It was hypnotizing, and agonizing, and he loved it. He loved his pain, and he loved the deep, pitiful ache in his chest as he watched the little metal doll spin. He didn't know how long he watched. It could have been forever. It could have been only a minute. He didn't know.

"Dude," he heard Wally say. "Come back to planet Earth."

Dick felt the ball jolt, and he watched sadly as it folded back up, covering the little clockwork circus from view. He blinked, and he looked up at Artemis, managing to smile at her before pulling the ball closer to him, feeling a strange comfort by having it around.

"Thank you, Artemis," he said, wincing at how tight his voice was. "This is amazing."

She looked surprised. She sat back, her eyes wide, and she glanced at Wally. "You're… you're welcome. But, Wally kind of nudged me into it. You'll understand when you see his gift."

Wally smiled and tossed him a book. It was wrapped, but Dick knew it was a book. He caught it easily, setting the circus-ball down on the couch beside him. Barbara and Jason were peering curiously at the parcel, though Barbara might have just been looking at him. He could feel her body, her arm against his, and he could feel how worried she was. It was nothing, though. He didn't need to assure her of it. She knew.

"Robin Hood." He'd ripped the paper off to find himself right. Still, he was pretty sure he already had a copy of Robin Hood. Somewhere. Maybe it was in the study.

"Open it, dude!"

He did. He blinked as a few slips of paper fell into his lap, and he tossed the book aside, his fingers grasping the edge of one of the five tickets. He stared, his eyes wide, and he looked up at Wally. The redheaded boy smiled, looking a little sad, but mostly just encouraging.

"Haly's is coming to Central in February," Wally said, leaning on Artemis's shoulder. She was smiling too, though the smile was smaller, and less certain. "I thought the five of us might go check it out. Considering last time everyone went without me, which was super lame, might I add! Oh, and we can see your elephant! The real one, not the stuffed one."

"Wait, wait, you have an elephant?" Artemis stared at him incredulously, and Dick laughed.

"Zitka is the circus's, not mine," he said. Still the thought of seeing the elephant again… it sent a tingle of warmth through him. Going to Haly without needing to save him was also a large relief, and he couldn't help but grin, his fingers tight against the tickets, and suddenly he didn't care at all that Cheshire was in the room. He turned to Barbara and Jason, his eyes large and bright and ecstatic. "Do you guys want to fly with me?"

Barbara was the only one who understood immediately. She stared at him, her eyes going very wide, and then she nodded fast. She looked at Jason, smiling eagerly, but he simply looked confused. After she gave him a long look, he seemed to understand, and he tilted his head at Dick.

"Wait, we'd be allowed to do that? If so, then I'm totally in, Dickie."

"Of course we'd be allowed." Dick placed the tickets on top of the book, and he sprung to his feet, weaving around the table as Wally yelped and jumped over the back of the sofa he was sitting on, ducking and laughing when Dick caught him around the neck, hopping onto his back. Artemis rolled her eyes, glancing at Jade and shrugging as she pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of the piggyback ride before the two boys settled down. Of course, they saw her do it, and they grinned boldly at the camera anyway.

"Wanna join in, Roy?" Wally grinned as Dick rested his chin against his best friend's hair, smirking at their older friend. "I think you can carry both of us. Dick weighs like, ninety pounds, not even joking."

"I'm good," Roy replied, looking amused. Jade glanced at him, rolling her eyes, and she let out a long sigh.

"What a shame. Would you like me to take your place?"

Wally's smile was wiped away, and he looked at Roy with wide eyes. Dick kept himself calm, and pretended to be completely oblivious. Roy shook his head, leaning closer to Jade, and whispering something in her ear. Her expression did not change aside from the corners of her lips pulling farther upward. Dick honestly did not want to know, and the more he looked at them, the more creeped out he was.

"Um, if we're done with this love fest," Jason said, holding up his gift. Dick jumped down from Wally's back, just as Jason's phone began to buzz. As Dick approached him, snatching the box from his hands, he looked at his phone and blinked slowly. He then showed the message to Barbara, who looked around sharply in response. Then her eyes met Dick's. He was pretty sure he already knew what it was.

"Oh," he said, taking a step back to look at Artemis and Wally. He met Artemis's eye, and he tried to project what he was thinking, desperately hoping she'd get the hint. If anyone could convince Roy and Jade to leave without arousing too much suspicion, it was her. It only took a few moments for her to look between them and understand. Immediately she nudged Wally, who was watching as well, coming to the correct conclusion as he stood up and yawned.

"Hey, Arty, does Mama Crock know that one of her daughters is married?" Wally asked, watching as Artemis looked pointedly at Jade, scowling. Jade had looked sharply at Wally, but Roy calmed her somehow by placing his hand against her waist. He smiled at Wally, looking grateful it had been brought up. Suddenly Dick realized why Roy had taken Cheshire here. He wanted to meet her mother, but Jade most likely wanted to put it off longer. It was a sly move, but hey, the guy was married to Cheshire. Dick doubted she'd be angry with him.

"She, in fact, does not." Artemis matched Jade's dark gaze, her head cocking to the side. "I thought it might be nice if the daughter in question got off her high horse and told her herself."

"Mother dearest will find out one way or another," Jade said, mimicking Artemis's movements. "What does it matter if it's I or you or a scrap of paper?"

"Because you're her daughter," Artemis hissed. "She hasn't seen you in years, and it would make her the happiest person in the world if you told her. Don't you get it? She won't care that you didn't tell her about getting married! She'll only be happy, because you decided to come home to allow her to meet him!"

Jade stood, her body tense, and she watched Artemis with a glower so fierce that it could put a batglare to utter shame. Roy stood as well, his fingers hovering around her shoulders, reluctant to touch her, as if she would lash out if he did. Dick thought Jade would argue with Artemis, send something nasty back at her sister, but she didn't. She stood in silent fury, nothing in her expression but pure icy wrath, and she turned, her anger flickering into a odd, strangely sweet smile as she nodded to Dick.

"I hope you had a very happy birthday," she said, her eyes flashing maliciously. Dick could do nothing but stare at her as she left the room, slinking away with Roy right behind her.

No one spoke for a few minutes. They didn't want to risk it. Then, Dick breathed in relief, grinning broadly at Artemis. "Thanks, Art. That saved us some hell."

Artemis said nothing, but only took a deep breath and leaned back, her head resting against Wally's shoulder. "We should probably go too," she sighed. She glanced at Barbara and Jason. "I assume that's from Batman?"

"Apparently Harley's with Catwoman." Barbara shrugged. Jason stood without hesitation. "Harley really likes hanging around people no one expects her to hang around."

"At least she's found a friend who isn't crazy," Dick replied, a little relieved for the Joker's girl. He hated the Joker with a great deal of passion, but he never felt anything but pity for Harley Quinn. She was duped by the Joker more often than anyone else, and her entire life was devoted to a man who would gladly crush her spine if it suited his fancies. He hated that. But it couldn't be helped. Harley willingly loved the Joker, and she was unhinged. They could do nothing about it.

"Isn't like, everyone in Gotham crazy?" Wally joked as he and Artemis rose to their feet.

"Honestly?" Artemis smiled. "Probably. But you must find us charming, or else you'd never be friends with us."

"I would gladly kiss everyone in this room," Wally said, leaning closer to Artemis. Then he spun around, suddenly at Dick's side, snatching him by the shoulders. "Starting with Dick!"

"KF, don't be gro— agh!" Dick winced as his best friend made an obnoxious smooching sound, pecking him on the forehead and jumping away as Dick moved to throw him across the room. "Waaaally! Not in front of Artemis, she might get jealous!"

"You are troubling me," Jason said, frowning pensively at Dick. "Is there something you'd like to inform the group, Dickiebird?"

"Uh," Dick said, flashing a grin as he rubbed his forehead. "Wally's right behind you?"

Jason blinked, and his eyes widened, but it was too late. The speedster had caught the youngest member of their little group from behind, lifting him into the air and planting his lips against the flailing boy's hair, dropping him as Jason spun around and kicked Wally very hard into the couch. The redheaded boy could only laugh, though, and he turned to Barbara, moving at superspeed and kissing her on the cheek. She didn't seem to notice, or truly care. She smiled though, and shook her head.

"Yeah, I can see why you and Dick are best friends," she said, stifling a giggle. She scooted over as Wally beckoned Artemis toward him, and she reluctantly obeyed. She was smirking, and shaking her head, but she leaned down anyway, catching his lips with hers. Dick was trying to contain his laughter as Jason recovered, looking at the kissing couple with an expression of pure disgust. Barbara was smiling, though she looked a little uncomfortable.

"Not gusting," Dick observed. "Nope. Can you two please go play tongue twister somewhere else? There's something I've gotta do when these two interrupt Batman's date tonight."

Wally and Artemis broke apart, but they still were very close to each other, practically sucking up each other's air. Artemis had crawled into Wally's lap sometime when they were kissing, and now she was tilting her head back, her arms slung around his neck. She shrugged and slipped off him, watching Jason and Barbara as they began to inch toward the door.

"What, no more party? Just 'cause the little bats are going out to play?" Wally pouted, but stood up anyway.

"You know, Wally, 'little bats' isn't the term I would use to describe us," Barbara said, wincing as Dick collected a birthday kiss from her cheek. Wally's little stunt had reminded him that she'd kissed his cheek on her birthday, so it was only fair he got the same deal. She pushed him away, and said nothing more about it.

"Ugh," Wally groaned. "Dog..."

"I'm sorry?" Dick poked Barbara's cheek, earning a jab from her elbow sharply into his stomach. "I'm pretty sure this is precisely the cheek you kissed not… what? Three minutes ago?"

"It was platonic and chaste," Wally scoffed. "You've been all over her tonight!"

"Um, can I object?" Barbara asked, shrugging Dick's arms off her. He gave her a little smile, to which she responded with a blank stare.

"No." Wally picked up Artemis and grinned back at them. "Just kidding. We'll leave you two to be bats, and Dick to be a dog. Happy birthday, dude!"

"If we ever get a dog," Artemis mused. "We should name him Dick."

"Does that imply us living together sometime in the near future?"

"Well," Artemis said, pursing her lips. "We are going to the same college. Assuming I get in."

Wally stared at her. Dick did as well, awed by her boldness. And then Wally grinned, kissing her fast and bumping his forehead against hers. "Babe, you don't have enough faith in yourself. You're one of a kind. Of course you'll get in! But, like, holy crap, are you actually implying that you want to live with me? You actually want to live with me?"

"Kind of second guessing myself," Artemis said slowly. "But, you know what, why the hell not?"

"Uh, you might kill each other?" Dick was grinning anyway, overcome by happiness for his two friends. They really seemed to have a control over their lives. It was like watching the future unfold before him. He could see them together, living in a little house and taking baby steps toward the future, working for a success that was sure to come to them. Dick hoped they would make it. They were so happy, and he was so happy for them. When he was younger he had often wondered what it would be like if Bruce settled down with Selina, or Talia. Talia was a likelier choice, because she almost did. Once. Dick had almost wanted it, too. He didn't think Talia was the choice decision for a surrogate mother— Dick much preferred Selina's company, strangely— but part of him desperately wished for Bruce to have a happy life. A normal life. He could have his own children, and raise them in a happy life, with two parents that truly cared for them, and they would be the most kick-ass little siblings any guy could ask for. But that never happened. Bruce couldn't do it. Talia couldn't either. It was sad, but for Dick, it was only because of the wasted potential. It could have worked somehow. They could have made it work.

Dick didn't know why he was so desperate to believe in love. He'd never been in love himself— not with Zatanna, and certainly not with Raquel. When Dick had asked Bruce if he loved Selina, he replied that he didn't know. When he'd asked if he loved Talia, Bruce had replied that he wished he didn't. When he'd asked if he loved Diana, he'd replied, maybe, but he wasn't entirely sure how. Love was so sloppy, and it made fools out of them all, but Dick wanted it to be real. He believed in the thing that his parents had. He believed it was possible for Bruce, and he wanted it to be true with Wally and Artemis. They weren't really ready for anything huge just yet, but they were building it. It was a hopeful thought.

Wally and Artemis left. Probably to make-out some more someplace else. It didn't exactly matter, because Barbara and Jason were already running late, and they left quickly as well. That left Dick with his thoughts, and his unopened gift from Jason. Whatever it was, Dick didn't open it. He wanted Jason to be around for that, and he could wait. He'd already been given more than he could have hoped to expect, and it was enough. It was days like these, truly amazing days with amazing people that made him wonder. Would he trade it all for a life with his parents alive? Would he truly?

He didn't know. He was so scared of that question, because he couldn't trade Bruce or Jason, not for anything in the entire world… not for the sight of his mother's face, or the sound of his father's laugh, or the ginger touch of his cousin as he mussed his hair, affectionately insulting him. But part of him wondered, if given the chance, would he give into the temptation of having his family back? Jason, Bruce, and Alfred were his family, sure. But that was different. It was so different.

Dick had to quickly get himself out of that thought range, so he began to clean up the living room, bringing all the plates and utensils into the kitchen. Alfred looked surprised, and then he tutted, shaking his head. "No, no," Alfred insisted, taking the plates and urging Dick toward the exit. "I won't have you doing my work on your birthday, Master Richard."

"Alfred," Dick sighed, spinning to face him. The man took in Dick's expression, and he faltered in his attempt to rid him. "Please? I know you don't like it when I help, but… I'm really antsy right now. And there's something I want to do. If I help you, then the clean up will be done sooner, and you can drive me. Sound good?"

The old butler was silent for a few moments, looking a little uncertain. Then, he relented with a sigh. "Oh, alright, sir… Do I need to inquire on where we are going? Or should I assume?"

"Assume," Dick replied, moving fast to help relocate the leftovers into plastic containers. Whatever was left would go to the homeless shelter. That was pretty much the only thing they could do with the extra food, since Alfred did not believe in reheating food he'd made the previous day. It was sort of an unspoken service done by the members of the Wayne household, and Dick helped whenever Alfred would let him. He didn't think Jason knew about it just yet, but he probably thought about it.

They had the kitchen spotless in twenty minutes. Dick was sort of hopeless when it came to cooking (well, almost), but he had a talent for cleaning. Often Dick had joked when he was younger that he was practically Little Orphan Annie when he'd came to the Wayne manor, making assumptions about his reason for being around and trying to do half of Alfred's job for months. Actually, he used to sing songs from that musical to himself sometimes. It helped him feel better when he was feeling low, and Dick used to truly enjoy singing. Of course, he never really showed off, because he found it a little embarrassing. His mother had always loved his voice though, and used it to make yet another fine comparison between him and a robin. He never minded.

Dick was constantly bothered when he left the house. He hated being away from Jason and Barbara, because Deathstroke knew them. He was certain that he knew who Batgirl was by now. The man was too smart, and Dick was certain that Barbara's identity would not be secret to the assassin for long. The question was, why had he not struck yet? It had been a week, and Dick had never given him an answer to his test. By all accounts, Nightwing's identity should be on the streets by now.

Unless Deathstroke was simply waiting. It was a sly tactic, and a psychological maneuver. Deathstroke would allow the paranoia to fuel Dick's existence. He would let Dick become obsessed with the idea of Deathstroke knowing him, become obsessed with getting back at Deathstroke, to the point where Dick's entire life would become nothing but a panicked frenzy of convoluted plans and plots to break the man who put his entire family at risk.

Dick would not allow that to happen to him. It was already happening to Bruce, and Dick couldn't let himself become like that. He would keep himself calm, and collect his bearings, because Deathstroke could not be allowed to have his mind. He could know his identity, and he could know his mind, but Dick would give the man hell before he allowed the man to own them. To overtake them. He believed in himself too much to allow someone as cunning as Deathstroke the Terminator become the thing that fueled his existence. Dick lived for the people who cared for him, and he lived for the protection of the people who could not protect themselves. He did not want vengeance. He didn't.

The car ride was too short. Dick wanted to sit longer and mull over his life choices, muse about his place in the great big jigsaw puzzle of life, and most of all, he just didn't want to do it. But there was an immense amount of guilt that troubled him at the very idea of not doing it. So he climbed out of the car, his face meeting the slap of cold December air, and he pulled his coat tighter around himself. He dressed warmly for the occasion, putting on a heavy jacket and boots, pulling out his winter gloves, and shoving a pale blue hat over his dark hair. He didn't bother asking if Alfred wanted to come with him. He already knew the answer.

He listened to the soles of his boots as they crunched against the snow, leaving dark footprints in the glimmering white. The sun was gone, and the night was nipping, and the sky was starless. Everything tasted sharp and biting, and the wind snarled at his ears, whistling under the beanie he'd donned. The world was silent, completely and suddenly, and Dick could feel ghosts kissing his stinging cheeks. They were the wind. They were the tempered, whipping, snarling, scathing cold that clashed against his bare face, the dusting of snow as it spun in the air, riding the winds and smacking his skin like shards of glass. They were his thoughts, and they were his despair, and he walked onward.

He heard phantom flutes, shrill and melodic as they sang in his ears. It was pleasing to his senses, and overwhelming to his heart. He marched on calvary, his muscles taut, and his eyes cast toward the faint shimmer of snow as it stuck to the underside of his boots, softly breaking beneath his weight. The flutes were of his memory; blithe as time, and without fully realizing it he began to hum along. It was a song he remembered well, a tune the entire family would chirp during parties. The circus loved to hear it, because they were not familiar with the impetuous lyrical dissonance. Often the words they sang did not match with the airy melody, and it threw them off, because how could they sound so happy, but sing so sadly? Dick could still taste the stale air of the train; still smell the popcorn and sweat and adrenaline from the circus's last performance. They celebrated in the dining car, and everyone sat around the Flying Graysons as they pulled close and sang.

"Ked mi kardtka prišla narukovat," he recalled, his voice a floating cloud as it broke the night air and curled softly, sweetly, mellifluously. The words sounded strange against his tongue. Foreign. He hated that. But still, he formed them without a hitch, his mouth carefully spewing his old language in a smooth, but strangely gruff tone. "Začeli mi slizi z oču padat…"

As a child, he learned some Romani customs. He could not claim to be a Roma, but he could not deny that it was part of his heritage either. It had been natural to speak two tongues while growing up. He had never thought to ask of the details with this language he spoke. He just had. It had been like learning to breathe. For the most part he had used English, but his family had been strange and irregular, shifting in and out like a faulty phone connection between English and Romani. The fact that he'd learned circus slang while mixing his two languages made for a jumbled vocabulary. Which, he had to admit, had been extremely whelming. He dropped a lot of it when he realized the rest of the world did not take very kindly to that sort of oddness. The orphanage had practically beat it out of him, and whenever he said something he'd picked up from the circus around Bruce, the man simply looked startled and confused. By age ten, Dick could pretend he'd never stepped foot in a circus, and truthfully, he sort of did.

"Mili musikanti zahrajte mi čerdaš," he sang. This was the part about the song he remembered the most. When he'd sung it with his family, they'd all sang it with such pure emotion, their voices melded together into one brunt force, and it was all very staccato and sharp. Somehow, though, it all remained as fluid as the softly lulling flute. They were Graysons. Everything they did was fluid. He found himself smiling to himself as he trudged off the path, his boots burying themselves in the snow. "Pervego oktobra mam rukovat…"

In his mind, he was seven years old, and bright and bold and far too happy. In his mind, his arms were slung around his father's neck as he sat on his knee, grinning as the man bounced him carefully to the beat of the song. Every so often another member of the circus would join in, belting out words drunkenly, tunelessly, barely pronouncing them correctly. But it was happy. They were all happy. Dick had been happy too. He still felt that happiness, the godly warmth of belonging, and knowing that he belonged. He could still smell his father's hair, faintly peppery, not like Bruce, who was more like ash and cloves, but mostly stuck with a mixture of sweat and tealeaves.

Dick bent down on one knee, snow seeping through his jeans as he sighed, his voice carrying loudly in the aching quiet of the night. He gingerly wiped the snow from the pale headstones, counting them as he continued to sing. "Mili musikanti zahrajte mi čerdaš," he repeated softly, melodically, his fingers running across his mother's name, and his father's, and then John's. "Pervego oktobra mam rukovat…"

It was a sad song. It sounded happy when it left his lips, but it was sad, truly, and the weight of it rested on his chest as he moved on to his aunt— and his uncle, whose stone was newer than the others. Dick fell to his knees, his fingers dusting the snow from the narrow letters of his own name. Richard Grayson, read the stone. Uncle Rick. Lone survivor of the fall. I'm sorry I pulled the plug. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry that I killed you. You were in a coma for so long… and you would be asleep forever. Living off a machine… is that even living? Uncle Rick? Even if you woke up, you would never move again. You wouldn't just be crippled, you'd be completely immobile. You understand why I let them do it, don't you? You wouldn't be able to speak if you woke up. I wanted you to wake up so badly, but I was scared… because you would hate me. You'd hate me, and envy me, and you'd hate yourself, and you'd want to die. Was it right? Bruce let me decide. He shouldn't have let an eleven year old decide whether a man lives or dies. I thought it went against his morals then, and I still don't understand now.

What was the difference between pulling out a gun and shooting someone in the brain, and pulling the plug on a life support machine? Dick had been with Uncle Rick when they'd done it. Bruce had tried to persuade him not to be in the room, but Dick refused. He shared a lot with Uncle Rick. His name, his legacy, his features, his blood, his reliance on flying to keep him sane. But Uncle Rick would sooner waste in a coma for the rest of his life than awake again. Dick had hoped it wouldn't come to the worst. But it had. And Dick had let his uncle die.

Dick could feel the snow melting against his thighs, but he didn't care. He took a deep breath, his breath a mist in the darkness, and he sang a little more, a little softer, a little more desperately. "Kana gardka kudlu ko slugadža, začinde te rovel mire jakha," he murmured, his heart thundering in his chest. The air whispered his song back to him. Gypsy music, ringing, ringing, soft and proud, brash and unyielding. He might have cried, but the ground beneath the snow had already soaked up all he could give. "Mire lavutara bašaven čardaši, kaj mange te khelav mira dake."

He could hear the sound of his voice carry far. He was suddenly unnerved, and he stiffened, his breath catching in his throat when his lips moved to sing another note. He bowed his head low, embarrassment and fury whirling around and around inside him, meshing and clawing at each other. He could feel a presence behind him, though he did not hear it. Someone was very good at stealth, or else he'd have heard the crunching of snow. And Dick knew exactly who. He felt alienated, and angry, but most of all he was just tired. He pressed his forehead against his uncle's name— his name, and he let the ghostly sound of the flute float away.

"Not in front of my parents," Dick breathed. "Anywhere but here."

"I'm not here to kill you." Deathstroke's voice was chilly, even in the frigid late autumn air. "I could, but I won't. You are very foolish, Grayson, coming out alone. When you are so obviously vulnerable."

"Can we please do this somewhere else?" Dick hated to beg, but it made his chest ache to speak with this man in front of his family's graves. He stood, placing a hand on his uncle's headstone, and spun around. There he was, standing without much care. Dick hoped he hadn't been standing there long, but he had to be honest with himself. The man must have heard him sing.

"I think this is precisely the spot where this needs to happen." Deathstroke cocked his head, his one eye flickering over the names on the graves. It stopped at Uncle Rick's, lingering on the name for a moment. The air seemed thicker when he was around. Dick hated it. He just wanted to man to leave him alone. His desire to catch Deathstroke faded with every move he made against Dick. All of it made little sense, and it freaked him out. He would rather the man just faded back into the obscure corner of the League of Shadows he had popped up from and be done with it. "I see you are recovering."

Dick shifted, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at Deathstroke's mask, feeling the wind as it whistled softly against him, threatening to blow him away. His knees were shaking, but it was more because of the cold dampness that drenched his jeans than from Deathstroke's presence. Dick was mostly just irritated at it. It seemed so petty to target Dick at the graves of his family, on his birthday no less.

"Get to the point," Dick said, "or get lost."

Deathstroke sounded amused. That made Dick feel sick to his stomach. "You truly aren't in any position to be giving me orders, Grayson," Deathstroke said, in his usual cold, flat voice. "But if you insist…"

Dick stumbled back, carefully avoiding knocking into John's headstone as Deathstroke tossed a box into the snow. He looked wildly between the box and the man who had possessed it, and he shook his head. Vaguely he remembered joking in the hospital about Deathstroke sending him a left over piece of Dick's skin for his birthday… but this? This was plainly horrifying. He wanted nothing more than to kick the box back into Deathstroke's face.

"What the hell is this?" Dick spat. He had only wanted to come visit his family. It was his birthday. He should be granted the company of their graves, at the very least.

"Is it not your birthday?" Deathstroke's eye rolled in a sort of sardonic reply. "My deepest apologies. Shall I dispose of it? Or perhaps we should leave it, and see what exactly is left of your family in the morning."

"Shut up!" Dick quickly scooped up the box, knowing it was exactly what he wanted. In his head, he could hear his mother singing, distant and crooning. Musicians play czardas, he thought, dazedly staring at the 'gift'. What am I getting myself into? Dick tore the box open, suddenly not caring whether or not it was a bomb, or something even less pleasant. He just didn't care. That scared him, truly, but he had no time to think about it. Because he saw the contents of the box. He stood for a moment, confused, and then he reached inside and snatched the thin fabric of the black mask designated for Robin. He felt his breath being seized by a force of nature too powerful to hold back. "You son of a bitch…"

"Not too surprised, I see." Deathstroke merely shrugged, as if the fact that he had somehow gotten his hands on Robin— on Jason, was nothing to him. "That's good. You're adapting."

Dick had to take a few deep breaths of sharply cool air before he could speak again. He looked up at Deathstroke, fueled by a rage that he had not known existed inside of him. "What did you do?" Dick snarled, feeling more powerless than he's ever felt in his entire life.

"Grayson, this is very simple," said Deathstroke, dangerous and cunning and more intelligent than anyone could really give him credit for. "I will give you until midnight to find your… brother, was it? Brother, partner— it makes no matter to me, really. You have until midnight. If you succeed, I won't trouble you any longer."

Dick stared at him, his mouth going dry at the thought. Because Dick was injured, and he was feeling way too rash at the moment to be in this kind of situation. "And…" he said, hoarsely. "If I fail?"

Dick could almost see Deathstroke's smile, curling like a ribbon. He would love to smack the man into kingdom come, and maybe then some more.

"Do you know the code of Hammurabi?" he asked, his single eye glinting in the darkness. "An eye for an eye."


I'm warning all of you now, I didn't edit this. So I apologize for any mistakes.

Uh, I'm thinking it's a common fanon thing for Dick to be Romani? Sooo I found this song, Musikanti by Acquaragia drom. They're an Italian Gypsy band. I wanted to do my homework on this one. Mostly because I feel really unsure about trying to tackle anything Romani, just because it's a real culture, and I really do find them fascinating, but I don't want to screw up and assume something about them that's wrong. I think it's a really delicate thing, and I didn't want to tread on any toes. So I tried my best, and this song is really wonderful, so check it out. There's actually no real English translation that I could find, but I found the story it was based on. I'll let you guys have that, so if you want to listen to the song, you can understand what I meant by lyrical dissonance. The song sounds really happy, but the lyrics are... well, far from it.

When I received my call-up papers,
I began to ask my dad:
"My dad, dad, do me a favor,
Go to the war instead of me".

When I received my call-up papers,
I began to ask musicians:
"Hey you, musicians, play csardas for me,
Let me have fun while I'm young,
Hey you, musicians, play csardas for me,
Let me to have fun one last time".

Musicians began to play csardas,
And tears began to pour from my eyes,
Nobody will cry, neither father nor mother,
Only three girls will cry for me.

And the first one will cry, because I am her brother,
And the second will cry, because I am her matchmaker,
And the third will cry, because she must,
Because she wears my ring.

Yeah. Don't question my decision to give Dick the talent to sing, his voice actor is Jesse McCartney. Let's be honest here. Anyway, review, please? =]